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By Jack Carson
Crew of "Crosby's Curse" (bomber) gave Bing copy of plane's log book. Captain who delivered it bunked with Crosbys over Xmas. Bing did recording ot 7th Air Force Bomber Command Song but says lyrics are too virile to repeat!
Bing's swinging into 13th year at Par. with new 7-year contract that will rake in about $3,000,000 for him._ In Dakar, his and Harry James' disks sell for $4 apiece.
Nobody ever got Bing to knock himself out working — not when he could play golf or clock
bangtails. But, heck, you should see him now
BING ON THE BEAM
• Bing Crosby was singing for the boys at the San Diego Naval Hospital when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw them wheel this wounded sailor out on a balcony.
He looked like a white mummy. He was petrified in a plaster cast from his hips to his eyes, and he was flat on his back all through the show. The sailor could hear Bing's melodies, but he couldn't see anything except the blue sky above. Bing Crosby took all this in, but he never said a thing until his act was over.
Then he picked up the mike and climbed to where the sailor was. "Maybe I don't improve the view," cracked Bing. "But anyway I can keep the sun out of your eyes. What'd you like to hear?" The sailor named a song and Bing sang it. "This one's for Johnny So-and-so" — naming the sailor — he told the crowd. He grinned down at the rigid gob.
"Say," Bing drawled, in that easy way of his and with
those big, blue eyes wide and innocent, "How'd you like to step out and go dancing tonight— hey? Maybe I can line up a couple of babes. What you say we do the clip joints, kick up our heels — hey?"
That was just what the invalid sailor needed. Wrapped up in cold storage, he'd had enough tongue clucking and sympathy. He wanted a good old American good-natured razz, and nobody handed him one. He almost cracked his cast laughing, and Bing climbed down feeling happy as a lark with that laugh ringing for days in his wind-wing ears.
The Old Groaner has had plenty of thrills in his day. He's seen and done just about everything, when you look back. After all, Bing's raised a generation of young Americans on his croons, and he's still, as Dinah Shore states emphatically, "the singer than which there is nothing whicher!" Bing's a prize family man with a slew of husky offshoots— {Continued on page 79)